summer heat is burning

Sometimes, the only thing I ask from my parents is to leave me alone. But they just can't never seem to fathom that. The more I want them to leave me alone when I'm not in any great mood, the more they keep talking about what I don't even know. Why do they have the right to get angry and say whatever they want to say and don't give a damn how awful they sound to other people but when it's my turn to be mad, mom always tells me to stop and fake a smile, pretend to be happy so that dad wouldn't start to blame everything on her? Why am I not allowed to be mad at the place so called "home"?

I need some space to mull over thoughts, and some time for anger to pass me by. There is no way I can stop anger. It comes and stays there. I can only wait until it goes. Do they ever get that?

Well, I guess these are the first tough days of being 19. Growing up is bitter and sour every once in a while, huh? But the will to lead a happy life hasn't faded in me yet. I don't wanna someday be like most grown-ups around me. I have seen them sigh and hear the words "put up with life" too much already. I am not one of them, and I will do the best I can not to. I am 19. I want to be positive and roll toward a future which I will make bright. I don't think I'm being too demanding, or am I?

Dear parents, you should know it would be abnormal if I were totally fine. Just the thought of that chick having screwed around here is enough to make me burn. I am so mad that I think I wouldn't hesitate to slap her right on the face real hard with all the strength inside me if she were in front of me right now. Even though I know it would hurt my hand.

And myself too.

I turned 19

I left off the entry I was working on on my birthday. I didn't really know what to tell. Nothing much has happened over the course of 19 years. I haven't done anything great nor achieve something big in life. And the spell of time doesn't fall only on me. It falls on my parents too. 19 years has passed since the day they first had me. Sure they're getting old.

Sometimes when I have nothing to do, I found myself imagining my parents 19 years ago. I happened to be a girl. Thanks God for this, otherwise I would have to bear the name I don't like at all for the rest of my life. Not that I'm particularly fond of the name I have now, but at least, it's a decent one and most of my friends rarely call me by that anyway. I wonder if my parents had any arguments over the names they picked for their children. I wish I could remember how it felt like to see my parents for the first time. How happy were they? How did they look at me and hold me in their arms? But you know, maybe there weren't such memories in my little brain at the time to begin with anyway. How could a person know such things?

So now I'm 19 years old, going to be a sophomore this coming fall. I never had a boyfriend and not sure if I'm going to have one in the near future. This single life has its own attraction. And I'm being drawn to it. I don't want to share my life with anyone. I don't want to fall out of my regular orbit. I don't want to have a new hairstyle, worry about my outfit, wait for a phone call because of some random person in this world yet. Right now, it's not a problem.

Anyway, I like being 19.

Even the sound of it sounds nice.